Tushtots' Tale

I don’t really have the history of my boy, all that I know is that he was rescued from a cat centre, having been shaved of his all fur, by a lady who fell in love with his looks. He looked most peculiar! His mouth was all crooked; clearly his jaw had been broken at some stage and  then not set properly as he wasn’t given the attention he needed. Having been shaved of all his fur, the very cute ‘Ahhh’ factor won him a new home.

But his new owner didn’t realise just how much attention he needed and after a few weeks he became a nuisance. He needed to be fed, he needed to be groomed, he needed cuddles ... he needed to be loved. Unfortunately she couldn’t give him any of these simple things, so very soon his fur became a solid knot of felt all over his body. He wasn’t fed as he should have been and even worse he wasn’t picked up and cuddled; instead he was put outside and left to his own devices.

He walked up and down the street ‘wowing’ crying to be fed and loved, people looked down at him sympathetically, but no-one did anything. He crept into houses where other cats lived, desperate to steal crusty left over food that the resident cat didn’t want but he was just shooed away. He would cry pitifully on people’s doorsteps hoping that someone would just pick him up, albeit for a few fleeting moments so that he could close his eyes and feel warm and wanted. But no-one did.

I heard about him, but we had 2 cats. We didn’t want another cat upsetting the apple-cart, besides a cat in this state obviously would have ‘issues’, was probably aggressive or diseased so we never bothered to go and see him, I am so ashamed of myself for this.

Then one night whilst on holiday I had such a vivid dream about a tabby Persian, that I turned to my husband and said I just know we’re going to have a new cat and his name is Baybee!!

Two weeks later we were in the street when this cat lived, I was sitting in the car whilst my husband was inside one of the houses. I saw a wretched little Persian tabby cat sitting on a doorstep staring intently at me. As I looked he dashed across the road, no thought for his safety, leapt through my window and just sat on the car floor looking up at me. Then he started to cry pitifully. My heart just broke. His shattered teeth were covered in fur from attempting to groom himself, his throat was choked with fur, he was painfully thin and his pelt was just solid with knots hanging off. His eyes, bright with hope, looked up at me as he started purring with all his might. I stroked him and he purred, head butted and chirruped My husband came back, he, too, was shocked to see the state of him as he put him out of our car and back into his own garden. As we drove away this poor little cat just followed us with his eyes full of hope, which dimmed with sadness as we drove away. I cried all the way home.

There was no argument, nothing was said by my husband and I, we just knew that we were doing the right thing as I tried to track his owner’s telephone number down. Eventually I got her and she admitted she just couldn’t cope with him, she had no idea how much he needed to eat and how to groom him. I begged and begged to have him. I didn’t realise that her hesitation in getting rid of him, something she was very keen to do, was that she was embarrassed that he had fleas. In retrospect I wonder if I hadn’t had him if he would have been put down!!

I was back at his house in a flash. As she opened her front door I saw at the top of the stairs a pair of very anxious orange eyes peering down at me as the poor thing shook with fear. His owner had bought a big angry dog to live in the house and it terrorised the cat mercilessly, the little cat was a quivering wreck.

His owner and I came to an arrangement, and my ‘new purchase’ was stuffed into a cat box and very gently I carried him to the car. He was silent all the way home nervously looking at me. When he arrived at his new home to live with us he walked out of his box, head butted me then explored his new home. First task on his important list of things to do was to locate the grit box and feeding station, once he’d worked out where they were he settled in just fine; no hiding under tables peering nervously out.

That night he was taken to the vet who was quite appalled at the state of him. He had a name which was not very nice and clearly he needed a new name but what? The vet asked him ‘What’s your name young fella?” and because the cat’s mouth and shattered teeth were choked with fur it wasn’t a meow that came out but a sound rather like ‘Tushtots’ The vet and I looked at each other and laughed then the vet asked again and ‘Tushtots’ was the reply, he almost seemed to be smiling at us when he said it!. So that was that, his name was Tushtots (strangely once his mouth and teeth were fixed he never said Tushtots again!)

He was left with the vet to have all his fur shaved off for the second time in his life and all his other problems sorted out and finally his inoculations then he was ready to start life as a ‘Turner-Tom’ at Tom Cat Towers!! As his mouth was very tender after his surgery we started to feed him by bottle. He absolutely loved that and it’s still a thing he does to this day. He’s tipped on his back like a baby and the food trickled into the side of his mouth - his tongue goes into lap mode before the bottle is anywhere near his mouth. It’s very difficult not to want to ‘wind’ him after!! His nickname is ... Baybee.

He was greatly puzzled by his lack of fur and wasn’t too happy trying to groom bare skin. It was quite cold so I cut down a baby’s romper suit which he wore with a hole for his tail! He had never been given water, so he would steal it. We would always find him in our sinks and baths with eyes pleading for us to crack a tap open for him to slake his thirst. For the first 3 months he wasn’t sure if this was a permanent home or whether he would be shunted off again, so he would just lie on the bed or have expeditions into the kitchen for food. One day something clicked like a light being turned on, he must have thought that he had it made and if he didn’t make an effort he’d be shunted on again (no chance of that I was besotted with him) So one night when he marched from the kitchen then onto a table near me and gave me a cat-kiss, it was a gift beyond diamonds, we are now an 'item'; total adoration!!

He had never had cat toys and viewed them with great suspicion, even fright. He now loves the Whittards catnip tea bags with the bit of string on the end and spends many a joyful hour on the bed drooling over one or fearlessly ‘killing’ it with his back paws!

He had never been given titbits by hand and didn’t know how to take proffered treats. It was a long battle to get him into these delights, mainly by offering them to him then he would look quizzically at me so I would gently place it into his mouth.

He’s been with us for 5 years now and we just adore him. He only goes out for a walk on a harness, which he took to instantly and never pulled or fought. He loves walks in the front garden where the neighbours come over to chat and give him a tickle, he stands all fluffed up and fierce when a local rottweiler dog ambles by giving Tushtots a nervous glance and he frightens the life out of a small dog over the road. The only time he was allowed out on his own he ran over the road from a scrap with another cat, straight into the path of a white van. There was such a ‘bang’ as he was hit and I went into shock, neither the dazed van driver nor I could find him. He hid in a garden before making it back home then he was rushed to the vets thinking he had internal injuries, but he has one heck of a guardian angel as he was unscathed. Phew!! No more outside!!

The whole house is run around him. The girls on the supermarket deli counter ask after him as they slice up butter basted turkey scraps for him, which he loves. His Granny Tushtots calls him on the phone and being a very vocal cat he talks to her. He sits on the carpet by the French windows supervising the blackbirds. He gets on the work surface to get his nose into shopping bags when they’re being unpacked and occasionally he has a bath and comes out like a little silkworm, smelling of coconuts. He loves catnip mice and having his tummy tickled and he still likes to be fed from a bottle

He has a very peculiar habit. Although he was neutered when I had him, he likes to make kittens!! Only at night and only on top of the duvet over my right knee as he chirrups and meows. Occasionally falling off then getting straight back on again!

He’s a very vocal cat, he never stops meowing and chirruping. Although he never said ‘Tushtots’ again after his surgery he does have a peculiar knack of saying ‘Don’t know’ and he seems to do it in reply to a question such as ‘who has filled the grit box?’ as he looks over at Willi, who is a bit daft and just minces round mewling! The vet said Tushtots was a clever cookie!

His story was woven into the Willi Whizkas tales and readers just adore him!! He gets fan mail and emails from all over the world which are all answered. In July 2006 he was on Animal Radio with Hal and Judy, and he managed to meow to the listeners transatlantically! BBC TV are coming to film him shortly as part of an article:-

‘Tushtots: from the gutter to glittering global success’

He’s growing his winter pelt and polishing his whiskers in readiness. No doubt his brother Willi Whizkas, a very large ginger Maine Coon cat, will get in on the act too!!
 

I never believed in love at first sight, but when I saw this little scrap and the condition he was in my heart just shattered. Now he rules the roost. We absolutely adore him and can’t ever imagine what life was like before we had him. I realise that he is a ‘one-off’  - he is my heart!!

He lives a very happy life as an ‘old gentleman’ here at Tom Cat Towers, he loves his Snooozeee which he snuggles into, eyes peeping over the top so he can supervise his two humans.  

Read Cat's book called Willi Whizkas, featuring, Willi, Tushtots, and Ginger Tompkins. It's a great read! 

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